Wilkins en route

In which our hero discovers the joys of walking...

i-a7e5adc37eda089f70bf034c3e5a74f5-Downe house.jpg

Next on my trip, I visited David Williams, a paleobiologist at the Museum of Natural History in London. We talked at length about the nature of systematics (which is something I am increasingly less certain about) and of the history of species concepts. Then he showed me some of the marvellous architecture that Richard Owen commissioned when he built the place. It really is made to look like a Cathedral of Science, with mock Gothic architecture and vaulting ceilings, all decorated with biological themes, I am pleased to say. Despite his bad reputation, I find myself liking old Owen.

The next day we went to Darwin's estate at Down, a small village that is still, amazingly enough, in the countryside despite being only a few miles from London. The building has been restored, of course, particularly after being used as a girl's school, so it's not exactly as the Darwins left it, but it was interesting nonetheless. Not because of any "aura of greatness" - I don't believe in such occult properties - but because it gave me an idea of what a rich member of the gentry lived like, which suggests how others may have lived. Darwin died as what in our terms would be a multimillionaire. One wonders how different his views would have been if he'd been born in poverty.

After visiting Downe House and trying to find out if Darwin had a particular book (Whatley's Elements of Logic) that would strengthen my thesis (he didn't. I am unmoved, however) and walking along Darwin's "thinking path" trying to look learned, I went with my host, Robin Levett, on a tour of the Kent countryside trying to find that bookshop that didn't know what it had and would sell to me for peanuts. Alas, they either didn't have what I wanted or knew what they had and charged accordingly. Damn internet.

Then to Paris. My old friend and costudent (we both had Gary Nelson as a PhD advisor, about the same time) Malte Ebach met me at the airport after some travail, and for the next three days I saw Paris broadly. Malte likes a walk (me, I like a snooze, but then, I'm old, and he's still enthusiastic), so off we went to see the catacombs, where we nominated a skull to be Lamarck's, who was buried in poverty in a mass grave that was later exhumed for health reasons and the bones taken to old Roman quarries. One of France's greatest biologists deserved better, and better than Cuvier's Éloge (eulogy), which was basically a posthumous assassination. One the reverse side of Lamarck's statue at the Jardin des Plantes is a little note from his daughter, pointed out to me by Malte, which says "You will be avenged, my father". Well, not by her, but by many others - Lamarck is much better known than Cuvier with all his statues. Despite the ways in which he was subsequently abused by the neo-Lamarckians, and the neo-Darwinians, Lamarck's ideas continue to inspire people.

It was hot in Paris. Why I go to northern climes during their summer I don't know - I get sunburned in Europe and the US, which is at best ironic for an Australian. Where London got to 32°, Paris was 35°+ and humid, right into the night. So we discovered (at Malte's and his wife Caitlin Hulcup's flat) that Parisians in the summer stay up till 2 am (at the Cuban restaurant downstairs, directly under my window). And talk loudly. Despite the lack of sleep, we went and saw the Notré Dame, named after some American university football team, I gather, the Sorbonne, Marie Curie's laboratory, the Monmartre, the Arc de Triomph (of course) and had lovely picnics (sorry, picque-niques ... really) by the Seine. Left bank, of course. I can't begin to list all the places my sadistic friends dragged me to. They were all wonderful. Next time I'm hiring a Segway, though. Paris is the city of stairs and sirens. I must have climbed half an Everest, and seen a hundred police, ambulance and fire/rescue cars, trucks, and boats go by with their sirens on. I was actually surprised when I saw a policeman (no, they don't call them Gendarmes, at least not in writing) walk by without his siren on.

We went to the cemetery at Père Lachaise, where Buffon is buried, along with Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison. Wilde's memorial is covered in lipstick kisses, along with messages of him being various people's hero or ideal man. Funnily enough, I met an Australian, from Perth, who asked me who Wilde was. So I delivered a short lecture, as is my wont. He'd heard of The Importance of Being Earnest, though, so he wasn't completely unaware. I also translated the Greek phrase on Morrison's tomb as best I could for one of the disciples of the Doors who was there (the translation was "according to his own spirit" - KATA TON DAIMONIA EAUTON if I remember rightly). It's no longer covered in graffiti.

I met a couple of people through Malte - one was Juan Morrone, a professor at UNAM in Mexico City, although he is Argentinian himself and has the exact same voice and accent as the late actor Raoul Julia. Juan is a weevil specialist, who also does biogeography, which is the study of regions of endemism and their relations. He and Malte are the founders of a new biogeographic society, The Systematic and Evolutionary Biogeographical Association (SEBA). We discovered a mutual love of schlock horror and science fiction movies. Over several beers he, Malte and I argued the nature of science and classification. I can't recall who won.

I also met Donato Bergandi, a philosopher and ethicist of ecology at the Museum d' Histoire Naturelle, which was home to Vic D'Azyr, Cuvier, Buffon and of course Lamarck and that other underappreciated genius of French science, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. Donato and I spent a day comparing notes (boy, the system there is different to what I'm used to) and talking about research techniques on a computer. I bet you didn't know that you can download entire books in PDF facsimile form from the Bibliothèque nationale's Gallica project. I got Linnaeus' Systema Naturae from there, for example. I also showed Donato how to use various Macintosh tools to make his own PDF books.

Donato, having access to the Museum after hours, took us to the Halle des Evolution late at night, where we sipped cognac and wandered past the exhibits in what was probably the only air conditioned building in the city. Despite having some amazing stuffed animals, there was a notable lack of evolution in the hall of evolution. I wondered if that was due to the French being parochial about Lamarck versus Darwin - apparently there was a political move to not name it that way that the museum staff resisted.

The trip to Chicago was painless, although I managed to screw up dialing phones the American way, and thought I was talking to an operator when I was actually talking to David Hull. The obligatory tourist moment out of the way, he picked me up and we went to dinner (good fish and chips, with Scottish beer in my case), where we talked about things, people and ideas we have a common interest in. He cautioned me about how my book will be received by historians and biologists - I'm starting to wonder if it's a good idea (I should just publish the chapters as papers, maybe). David is not the first to tell me I'm in for heavy weather. Chicago is where I now am. When I get back to Australia and have the film developed and digitised, I'll put up some pictures somewhere for those whose lives are less interesting than mine (poor buggers!).

David was a charming host, and I very much value his friendship, not least because he has helped me get into philosophy professionally. But he's also a nice man, who does a lot of good for a lot of people who are otherwise marginalised in American society. Oddly, the other houseguest there was a lecturer from the same university as Donato, there to help organise the Gay Games in Chicago a week earlier. He left for Paris the same time I left for Bloomington.

But... wrong Bloomington! My Australian travel agent sent me to the one in Illinois. I was trying to get to the one in Indiana, where the university is (and where I now type). So, an expensive trip back to Chicago and then to Indianapolis, and I got here about midnight last night... On to the workshop tomorrow. And yes, it's hot here too. And raining.

I must thank my hosts - in London, Robin and Cathy (and their charming 8.5 year old daughter Jenine, who told a friend as "the Australian is here" - I apparently represent the whole nation, which bodes badly for my homeland), in Paris, Malte and Caitlin, and in Chicago, David and his housemate, for their generosity. Despite meeting people with weary and cynical views, they, and almost all the people I meet, are open, friendly and helpful. Time to reiterate the Wilkins 95:95 rule: 95% of all people are decent 95% of the time. It is my fortune to meet many decent people who exceed that threshold. Remember that when you are bombarded by bad news on CNN.

I hope Jenine will forgive me for not bringing the fluffy kookaburra. I will send it on when I get back, I promise. With a surprise.

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Hey John! Sounds like a good trip. I have a question for you though: what reason did Prof Hull give for your book being recieved stormily by historians and biologists? For one thing, that is a sort of weird pairing, as, in my limited experience, one group can often get frustrated with the other. So I am interested to know how you can manage to annoy both groups...

cheers

It's the old problem of doing interdisciplinary stuff - each profession thinks you are a maverick because you aren't [sitting in an archive|working at the lab bench]. Philosophers, of course, have lower standards, but they attack everyone, so that's nothing to worry about.

By John Wilkins (not verified) on 26 Jul 2006 #permalink

I don't quite get the objection, either. What's wrong with having multiple disciplines out to flay you? Getting the mob riled up is good, lots of shouting and arguing is good, controversy is good. You don't really want to publish something that will get a few people to say, "that's nice," do you?

The Natural History Museum in London is a treasure, a beautiful building, specially if you get to see their rooms of collected creatures in bottles, with hand written notes stating they were collected in 1829 or whatever. Their rare books are also amazing with beautiful old drawings. Even with the somewhat tacky "modern" exhibits for kids.

What's wrong with having multiple disciplines out to flay you?

Well there's two problems:

1. I have no position that is tenurable. Being the laughing stock of my colleagues might impede my job chances in the future. There's a reason I don't put my picture up on the blog much, you know. [A lot of people at the workshop read this thing. They all wondered why I used the gorilla, until they met me in person.]

2. Reviewers. You can't get a thing published if your reviewers disagree, and they will (and they have).

The upsides, though are:

1. It is better to be talked about than not to be talked about. [Oscar will certainly steal that, I am sure].

2. It might advance the debate, if not my career.

Hard to decide. Money and career, or altruism and glory?

By John Wilkins (not verified) on 26 Jul 2006 #permalink

Are you in Bloomington for FDIBS? My wife just arrived there, but apparently missed the opening reception.
In other notes, I thought Amundson's book on the roots of evo-devo was quite good--and he's a philosopher writing about the history of biology. I'm a biologist and my wife is a historian, and we both liked it. So, it can happen...

I think papers first, then book, is a good idea, especially if you think having philosophy as a home department is more likely than history. Philosophers (at least in the analytic tradition, speaking broadly) tend to value refereed papers over books. Plus, I think that once you get people interested in your ideas, via the papers, they would be more likely to buy a book of yours.

But yes -- getting people riled up is infinitely better than getting ignored.

[I like the gorilla, but he doesn't have your nice smile.]

There is a difference in France between Police and Gendarmerie :
gendarmes are a military force that polices (?) rural areas and small towns. Cities have policiers (policemen). And of course each body takes very much at heart to mock the other, despite the fact that they're doing exactly the same kind of job.

And to me, a Parisian, the city of sirens is New York with no contest possible : the sound is so loud it can be heard 4 blocks away...

Thanks, Roberta. I'll chat to you later the next few days about that.

Maybe Noo York sirens are louder. But there are more sirens in Paris than anywhere I've been (all six places!). Perhaps Beijing is worse?

By John Wilkins (not verified) on 27 Jul 2006 #permalink

I'd wasn't aware of the Bibliotheque nationale's Gallica project. Thanks for pointing it out!

Maybe I'm not in touch with academia, but since when has being wrong (particularly spectacularly so) been an impediment to career advancement? Besides, per Hull, doesn't your late start more-or-less dictate that you have to go the risky route?

And about the two Bloomingtons, didn't someone at t.o. warn you about that? I knew you never listen to us!

- John (Green With Envy Over Down House) Pieret

Being the laughing stock of my colleagues might impede my job chances in the future.

Ah, too easy.

They all wondered why I used the gorilla, until they met me in person.

Didn't you and the gorilla settle out of court?

The reason I don't have my own blog is that I don't want to make it too easy for you to respond.

Bob

I think you were on the wrong floor of the Museum d' Histoire Naturelle. The upper floor of the Hall of Evolution has the best evolution exhibit I've yet seen in a natural history museum. It starts with some pre-Darwinian background, and then takes the visitor through a very clear exposition of the principles and applications of the theory. It uses the museum's collections cleverly to illustrate key points -- for example, a cluster of hawks of the same species with differing plumage to illustrate natural variation. It's surprisingly sophistocated in its discussion of genetics, and it warmed my heart by having microscopes trained on Drosophila specimens so visitors could see the effects of mutation. I'm sorry you missed it -- it's well worth exploring, and latinate scientific terms that are almost the same in English and French make it intelligible to people like me who speak biology but very little French.

By Sarah Stockwell (not verified) on 27 Jul 2006 #permalink

I was on the upper floor, or at least the walkway around the hall. Hang about... maybe we didn't go to the very top. I did see some lights up there, but I was trying not to attract the overt attention of the guards. [We weren't actually supposed to be sipping cognac there, oddly.]

But the rest of the exhibit was very cool.

O'Hara, I'll get the boys to deal with you...

By John Wilkins (not verified) on 27 Jul 2006 #permalink

I think I ought to make clear that John W is a low-maintenance guest - speak it not in Brisvegas, but he is even housetrained - and it was a pleasure to have him.

As for John P - would it help your colour at all to know that Downe House is only walking distance from Bromley (not that we walked)?

By Robin Levett (not verified) on 31 Jul 2006 #permalink

I wonder where you would have been sent to first had you been going to Springfield.

By Susan Silberstein (not verified) on 31 Jul 2006 #permalink

I wonder where you would have been sent to first had you been going to Springfield.

Why, to the same state as the Simpsons, of course...

By John Wilkins (not verified) on 31 Jul 2006 #permalink

Can't it possibly be that you missed Pasteur's lab in Paris??? No, no, of course not. You just failed to mention it in the post... must be... Anyway, go there again, next time you are in Paris!

It's possible I had it pointed out to me but that fatigue had set in (boy those guys can walk!) and it failed to get recorded in long term memory. But I think I didn't go past it this time.

By John Wilkins (not verified) on 05 Aug 2006 #permalink

I'm going to visit Paris next month and I think I'll use your route for my sightseeing tour. I'll make sure I didn't miss Pasteur's lab.